Sherlock: Violet On Olive
by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: The tenth story in the "Colours" series. It's Christmas. Sherlock and John have to spend time with each others' family. 'Tis the season and all that. See warnings inside.


**SHERLOCK**

**VIOLET ON OLIVE**

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Main Pairing: **Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

**Side Pairing: **Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade

**Warnings:** Graphic m/m sex, explicit language, homophobia, references to alcoholism

**Note: **The tenth story in the "Colours" series. The full list can be found on my profile. The partner series is called "Sherlock: Impact" and tells the Mystrade side of the story. The full list can be found on my profile.

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

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><p><strong>Beta: <strong>squarerootofrsquared

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><p><em>Sherlock began to play, softly, a song that tore at John's heart while filling him with joy. He just watched Sherlock, mesmerised as his skilful and nimble fingers danced along the strings. His eyes were closed as he pulled back on the bow, swaying with the music he was playing.<em>

_He continued for minutes, or hours, or days, John didn't know or care. Sherlock had completely captivated him; mind, body, soul, everything._

_Sherlock stopped suddenly and stooped to kiss John softly, pressing his full lips against the doctor's._

'_I love you, John Watson. Happy one year anniversary.'_

_John grinned up at him. 'You are a bloody amazing man, Sherlock Holmes, and I love you.'_

_Sherlock chuckled and pulled back, resting his fingers once more on the strings._

'_Sherlock?'_

'_Mm?'_

'_Happy anniversary.'_

_They grinned at each other_

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><p>It was a month before Christmas when John got home to find Mycroft Holmes waiting. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, probably out on some case or zonked out after not sleeping for 72 hours. It annoyed John (he'd been looking forward to some dinner and maybe sex) but he'd learned not to dwell on the weirder aspects of his partner. He paused in the doorway, watching as the elder Holmes twirled his umbrella.<p>

'Mycroft, hello.'

'Good evening, John.'

John? When had Mycroft started calling him John? The doctor shook his head and took off his coat, asking, 'Would you like some tea?' as he went to the kitchen.

'Yes, please, John.'

Please? Okay, something was definitely up. John decided to wait until after he'd fixed two steaming mugs to ask. When he went back into the living room Mycroft was in the same position. He smiled warmly and accepted the mug, sipping from it delicately.

'So... can I help you with something?' John asked. Even after knowing the elder Holmes for over two years, John still felt nervous around the man. Not as nervous as he once was but... well, Mycroft Holmes was still dangerous.

'I have some news to share with you and my brother, John, however Sherlock is currently incapacitated.'

John raised his eyebrows. 'Incapacitated?' Mycroft smiled and he asked, 'How do you mean?'

'He was raging about in an unhealthy manner and I may or may not have offered him some government issued sleeping pills.'

'What?' John spluttered.

'Absolutely safe, of course,' Mycroft said, sipping his tea again. 'My brother was working too much, John, and needed some rest. I'm sure you agree with me that he needs more sleep.'

'Yeah,' John said and looked up at the ceiling where he knew Sherlock would be snoring into their pillows.

Seriously, what the bloody hell was wrong with the Holmeses– John stopped that train of thought right there. He was sure many psychiatrists had tried to figure out what was wrong with the Holmes brothers over the years.

John cleared his throat after taking a gulp of tea. 'Erm, you said you had news?'

Mycroft's eyes lit up and he smiled, placing his cup on the coffee table. John had never seen him so openly... happy. 'Gregory has agreed to move in with me.'

'Oh,' John said, remembering his and Greg's conversation about the DI wanting to move in with Mycroft. 'Oh, that's great, Mycroft. Really, congratulations.'

Mycroft smiled. 'Thank you, John. Would you be so kind as to inform my brother when he wakes? The pills should wear off by tomorrow lunch time. Just in time, incidentally, for you and my brother to assist Gregory and I pack his belongings.'

John realised Mycroft was asking for his help (though in a rather pompous manner and without actually _asking_). 'I'd be glad to help, Mycroft. It's Saturday so I'm free and I'll make sure Sherlock is.'

Mycroft beamed and stood suddenly. 'Thank you, John and I appreciate the tea but I'm afraid I must go. Gregory's shift ends shortly and I am meeting him for dinner. Also, I took the liberty of ordering you food as I knew you would be hungry. I ordered enough for both you and Sherlock; he will be hungry when he wakes. Please have a pleasant evening, John, and I'm sure Gregory will call you with the details.'

He smiled, nodded, and swept from the flat, leaving John staring bemused at the door.

{oOo}

Like Mycroft had said, Sherlock was awake just before midday. He yawned and shuffled about the flat in his dressing gown, hair a tangled mess and eyes droopy. He went straight to the fridge and took the boxes of Chinese from his brother, using a fork to shovel noodles into his mouth.

'Morning, sunshine,' John smiled as Sherlock sat beside him. Sherlock managed a grunt and John chuckled. 'Wow, those pills must be good.'

'Mm,' Sherlock murmured around his fork. As soon as it was clear of his mouth, John leaned in for a kiss.

'Love you.'

'Mm.'

John rolled his eyes and settled back to watch the movie he'd been idly watching. 'Oh, we're swinging by Greg's at one to help him move.'

'Greg?'

John looked at his boyfriend. 'Lestrade.'

'Oh.'

He snorted and said, 'Anyway, Greg needs our help moving.'

'Where is he going?' Sherlock mumbled.

Wow, really? Sherlock was asking where he was going? John made a note to never let Sherlock near those government issued sleeping pills again. They made him far too... vague.

'Greg and Mycroft are moving in together,' John said.

Sherlock choked on his noodles and began coughing and spluttering into his container. 'Excuse me?'

'They're moving in together.'

'My brother is allowing another human being to inhabit his flat?'

Okay, pills were wearing off. 'Yeah.'

'I... what?'

John smiled. 'They love each other, Sherlock.'

'I am aware of that, John,' Sherlock scowled. 'I just didn't realise love would make my brother allow another human being to share his personal space. It's... interesting.' He settled back onto the couch and shovelled food into his mouth at warp speed, barely chewing before swallowing.

'Are you okay?' John asked.

'Mmf.'

'Sherlock, come on, I don't want you giving Greg or your brother a hard time, alright? They've been through a lot lately and they're still together. It's wonderful and it's lovely, so shut it.'

Sherlock turned to look at John carefully, eyes going up and down his partner. He swallowed his food, with some difficulty, and said, 'John, do you really think me that cold-hearted? I would never do anything to really hurt Mycroft; yes, we disagree on a number of things. And yes, his very presence irritates me beyond belief. But I thought you knew that–'

He cut himself off suddenly and turned away.

'Sherlock?' John asked. His boyfriend shook his head, curls bouncing about. 'Sherlock, come on. I'm sorry I said those things, okay? I know you're not cold-hearted.' He nudged Sherlock with his shoulder. 'Come on, honey, please.'

Sherlock sighed and poked at his food. 'I love my brother, John. I thought you knew that.'

John blinked. ''Course I know that.'

'Then you should know that I would never do anything to ruin his relationship with Gregory. Gregory is the best thing that has happened to my brother; he makes Mycroft happy and he stopped his drinking. I will be ever thankful for that.'

John thought he might start crying. He knew Sherlock had feelings; he knew the whole "sociopath" thing was a lie. Sherlock loved him, he loved Mycroft (in a weird way) and he even loved Greg. But hearing Sherlock actually say it was amazing.

John rubbed at his eyes, hoping Sherlock wouldn't notice (of course he noticed). They'd been together over a year and finally (FINALLY!), Sherlock was opening up more.

'John?' The doctor threw his arms around Sherlock and squeezed tightly. 'John, I can't breathe.'

'Sorry, I'm sorry,' John mumbled into his neck, pulling back a little. He placed kisses along Sherlock's pale skin, smiling when he moaned a little. 'I love you so much, Sherlock. You have no bloody idea.'

'I love you too.'

John grinned and pulled back to kiss Sherlock properly, tasting Thai on his lips. 'Are you awake?'

'What? Of course I am; we wouldn't be having this conversation if I wasn't.'

John rolled his eyes. 'I _mean_, are you awake enough and full enough to...?' he trailed off, raising his eyebrows.

Sherlock caught on quickly and grinned. He dropped the Thai container and fork onto the coffee table and stood, dragging John with him. 'Would you like a tour of the bedroom, Dr Watson?'

John chuckled. 'I'd much rather a tour of your body, Mr Holmes.'

Sherlock raised a dark eyebrow. 'I believe that can be arranged.'

John giggled as he was towed upstairs.

{oOo}

It was freezing cold as John and Greg Lestrade headed out to do their Christmas shopping.

'What are you getting Mycroft?' John asked.

'No idea,' the DI said as they climbed into a cab, brushing snow from their shoulders. 'Honestly, what do you get a man like Mycroft Holmes?'

John shrugged. 'Dunno. A CCTV camera? New umbrella?'

'Ha, ha, you're a riot, Dr Watson.'

John smiled. 'First Christmas together is a big thing.'

'I know that,' Greg said, 'what did you and Sherlock do for yours?'

'We didn't actually spend Christmas together,' John said. 'Sherlock had to go to his mother's for Christmas; Mycroft tricked him into it. It was too early in our relationship for me to meet her so I went to my sister's.'

'I bet that was fun.'

John chuckled. 'Oh yeah, a bloody party. Anyway, I didn't see Sherlock until the week after Christmas. Our gifts were of the... sexual variety.'

Greg smiled. 'I don't think I can give Mycroft my body for Christmas.'

'Why not? Doesn't he like it?'

'Wow, you just get funnier and funnier.' John's grin widened as Greg continued. 'We've been together... God, almost ten months now. I think it's time I got him a proper gift. He managed to avoid telling me when his birthday was so I didn't get him anything.' Greg frowned at the memory of realising Mycroft had been detoxing on his birthday. 'I honestly have no idea what to get him.'

'Well we're in the same boat,' John said as the taxi blared its horn at a group of teenagers. 'It took me ages to figure out what to get Sherlock for our anniversary. Now Christmas... God, whose idea was it to get gifts for Christmas?'

'We'll track 'em down and beat 'em to within an inch of their lives.'

John smiled and said, 'Maybe I could get Sherlock a new microscope.'

'He stole his last one from Bart's.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. I tried to arrest him but couldn't get it to stick.'

'Did Mycroft intervene?'

'I suppose so. Now I think about it, it was probably Mycroft. Too bad we didn't meet then.'

Greg became lost in memories of his boyfriend, leaving John to wonder what to get his own partner for Christmas.

{oOo}

John and Greg parted ways when Greg spotted an antique shop. John left the DI to his browsing and went window shopping, trying to find something, anything, that would make Sherlock happy. Unfortunately most shops didn't sell crimes, body parts, or naked John Watsons.

He was about to give up when he bumped into someone.

'Oh, sorry– Sherlock?'

Sherlock looked down at John, colour tinging his cheeks. 'John, hello.'

John gave him a quick kiss before pulling back. 'What are you doing here?'

'Erm... working a case.'

'Greg's with me.'

'Dimmock called.'

'Dimmock never calls.'

'Donovan.'

'Yeah right.'

Sherlock bit his lip and looked away. It was then that John noticed the plastic bag in his hand. He couldn't help the grin pulling at his lips.

'Sherlock... are you doing Christmas shopping?'

'Maybe,' Sherlock mumbled.

'It's nothing to be embarrassed about.' Sherlock looked at John again. 'Honestly.'

'Okay... then yes, I'm doing Christmas shopping.'

'For me?' John asked.

Sherlock nodded.

'That's so sweet, Sherlock.'

More colour spread across Sherlock's cheeks and John giggled. 'You're laughing at me.'

'No, I'm not.'

Sherlock was pouting now. 'Yes, you are. And you'll most likely laugh at what I got you.'

'No, I won't.'

'You can't know that.'

'I can because I love you.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John linked their arms. 'Come on, let's go find Greg.'

'I don't want to,' Sherlock scowled.

'Yes, you do.'

The genius sighed.

{oOo}

'John, I found it, the perfect gift!' Greg was all smiles when he met up with John for coffee. 'Sherlock, what are you doing here?'

'Shopping,' Sherlock said, stirring his coffee.

'I can see that... how's John supposed to get you a gift if you're here?'

Sherlock turned his light blue eyes on his boyfriend. 'You came out to buy me something?'

''Course I did,' John said. 'I haven't found it yet so come Christmas day you might be opening an empty box.'

'I could use some containers for more experiments.'

John rolled his eyes. 'No, Sherlock, I've told you a dozen times. I'm not buying you any containers, corrosive acids, or any type of larvae.'

'But John, I like bees,' Sherlock whined.

Greg smiled as John said, 'And I like where we live. Mrs Hudson will definitely kick us out if we let loose a swarm of bees.'

'No she won't, she loves us.'

'She won't love us if we let loose a swarm of bees in 221.'

'You've already used that excuse.'

'It's a good excuse.'

Sherlock folded his arms and glared at the table as Greg and John shared smiles.

'So what did you get Mycroft?' John asked Greg.

Sherlock tutted but both men ignored him as Greg pulled something from the brown paper bag he'd been holding. It was an antique pocket watch in excellent condition. Greg had had a message inscribed on the back.

'I was thinking of getting a small photo of us developed and put in,' Greg said, clicking it open. 'What do you think?'

Sherlock was staring at the watch as John looked it over. 'It's brilliant, Greg. He's always wearing a pocket watch.'

'I know. He always takes good care of it when he changes.'

'It was our father's.' John and Greg looked up at Sherlock as he continued. 'The pocket watch my brother wears; it was our father's. Mycroft got it the day Father died.'

Greg frowned. 'Oh... maybe I should get him something else then.'

'No, Greg, it's good,' John tried but Greg was already stuffing it back into the bag.

'I'll get him something else.'

'He'll love it.'

Once again Sherlock had John's and Greg's complete attention. 'What?' Greg asked.

'Our father... he wasn't a very nice man,' Sherlock said, eyes on the paper bag. 'Mycroft had to take the watch; family honour or some such rubbish. Mother talked him into keeping it. Mycroft keeps it with him to remind himself that he's a better man than Father.' He paused to frown. 'But I'd much rather him carry yours as a reminder that somebody loves him.'

Greg and John both stared at Sherlock who sniffed and looked away.

'Er... right, 'kay,' Greg said and sipped his coffee.

John grinned. He never thought he'd see the day that Sherlock would make Greg Lestrade feel better. It really was a Christmas miracle.

{oOo}

Greg had his presents and disappeared around one to meet Mycroft for lunch. John and Sherlock walked hand-in-hand through the shops, drawing grunts of disapproval from some people and smiles from others. John ignored them all in favour of the plastic bag Sherlock held.

He wanted to know what Sherlock had got him. It was most likely great and something John would never think to get himself. If only he knew what it was and how much it cost, he could buy his gift accordingly.

'You're not allowed to see what's in it until Christmas day,' Sherlock said.

John huffed and looked away. Of course Sherlock had noticed his staring.

{oOo}

They were sitting at home when Sherlock's mobile chirped. He frowned at the caller ID and threw it across the room.

'Mycroft?' John asked, flicking through websites on his laptop. He still had no idea what to get Sherlock and Christmas was fast approaching.

'Mm,' Sherlock mumbled, hands pressed together beneath his chin.

His mobile rang again and Sherlock cursed, turning his back on it.

'You know it could be Greg,' John said as the iPhone buzzed across the floor. 'Their home numbers are the same now.'

Clearly this hadn't occurred to Sherlock and he sat up straighter, staring at his phone. 'Lestrade will text me if it's important.'

As soon as the words had left his mouth Sherlock's text alert went off. He sighed and stood, grabbing his phone and quickly reading the message. What little colour Sherlock had drained from his face as he stared at his phone, tapping away.

'Sherlock?' John said when his boyfriend failed to move for five minutes. 'What is it?'

Sherlock dropped his phone onto John's lap and fell heavily on the couch. Frowning, John slid his thumb across the screen and found it open to a conversation between Sherlock and Lestrade.

_No, I didn't set fire to your office. Why do you always blame me? - SH_

**Why do I blame you? Hmm, let me think... BECAUSE IT'S ALWAYS YOU!_ - G  
><em>**

_Well it wasn't - SH_

**Why do I even bother? - G**

**ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE! Your mother is at our place and she wants to visit you. We're coming over now. If you tell your mother I'm with Mycroft I swear to God I will kill you and Mycroft will help, do you hear me? I will out you and John faster than you can deduce who Sally's sleeping with - G  
><strong>

_Are you serious? Please tell me you're joking, Lestrade - SH_

**About your mum or the murdering you? I'm not joking about either, we're leaving now. I suggest you move some of your stuff back into your old room unless you want your mum asking questions - G  
><strong>

_Yes, of course. How is Mycroft? - SH_

**Shaken, obviously. Seriously, how could you two not tell your mum you're gay? Honestly, you're thirty-five and he's forty-five. Oh, and I'm staying with Mycroft because of a bad break up. Your mum's currently scowling at me because I'm gay - G  
><strong>

_You told her you're gay? - SH_

**I haven't lied about my sexuality since I was twenty-five and I'm not about to start now, no matter how scary your mum might be -G**

**ETA ten minutes - G  
><strong>

John looked up to see that Sherlock was gone. He flipped his laptop shut when he heard curses from their room.

'Sherlock?' he asked, stepping through the kitchen and down the hall.

'John, put some of my clothes back in the wardrobe in the spare bedroom!' Sherlock shouted. 'Now!'

John had no choice but to do as Sherlock demanded. He didn't want to force Sherlock out of the closet, Mycroft either. If he did Sherlock would retaliate; John hadn't exactly told his family he was in a long-term relationship with a man.

'We wouldn't have to do this if you'd just tell your mum!' John called as he hung Sherlock's shirts in the wardrobe.

'Now is not the time to bring up my short-comings!' Sherlock shouted.

John rolled his eyes as his boyfriend bounded into the room with his pillow and violin. He quickly jumped on the bed and rolled around, making sure it looked messy and slept in.

'You're an idiot,' John commented as Sherlock stood, panting heavily, dark curls bouncing.

Sherlock dropped his violin and pillow on the bed before hauling John in. Their lips crushed together and John moaned, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulling him close. He licked his tongue along Sherlock's, loving the taste and texture. He'd never, ever tire of kissing Sherlock.

They broke apart and stared at each other, Sherlock's eyes wide and his breath even more ragged.

'Sherlock–' John was cut off by another kiss, this one softer and slower than the first. It still had him moaning and his fingers dug into Sherlock's hips.

There was a knock on the door and the two men broke apart quickly. Sherlock scrubbed at his lips, which did little to help the swollen look he was sporting, and disappeared. John tried to get his breathing under control and push down the swirl of need that had suddenly burst through him.

'Mummy,' Sherlock smiled when John entered the living room. He watched his boyfriend as he hugged his mum. Mrs Holmes was a bit shorter than Sherlock but still taller than both Greg and John. She had dark ginger-brown hair that was turning grey and strange eyes, almost purple or violet in colour.

'Sherly, dear, it's been too long,' Mrs Holmes said, releasing her son. 'What have you been doing with yourself? And why haven't I seen you since last Christmas? Honestly, Sherlock, you'd think I'd done something wrong.'

Mrs Holmes continued to berate her son as they went into the living room, Mycroft and Greg hanging by the door.

'I'm so sorry for this,' Mycroft whispered, 'I had no idea she was coming.'

'S'alright,' John said. 'Really.' He smiled at Greg and said, 'Tea?'

The DI nodded and followed John into the kitchen, leaving the Holmes boys to catch up with their mother. Greg groaned and fell to sit at the table, ignoring the box of Chinese food that Sherlock had left out for a week. It was growing weird blue and green mould but Greg didn't seem to care as he scrubbed at his face.

'So...' John started, pulling two clean mugs from the cupboard. 'Mummy Holmes.'

'God, John, you should see Myc around her,' Greg said. 'He's like a little boy. He does everything she wants; eats when she asks, wears what she wants, he'll probably have a curfew too.' He groaned again.

'Did she ask why you were at Mycroft's?' John asked.

Greg looked up at him, eyes wide. 'Oh my God, John, it was a nightmare. I went to get the door but Mycroft beat me; we thought it was takeaway. There I was, half-naked, and his mother walks in.'

'Half-naked?' John's eyes had gone as wide as Greg's... though John guessed he was enjoying the picture a little more than the DI. Greg really was good looking (NOT that John looked... much) and it was a little funny.

'I was only wearing bottoms, some silk pyjamas Mycroft got me.' He sighed and looked at the table. 'I made up a story about breaking up with my boyfriend and Mycroft letting me crash at his place.'

John snorted as he grabbed the tea bags. 'Isn't Mycroft a good friend?'

'Mrs Holmes said that,' Greg continued, watching John spoon sugar into the mugs. 'She said he was such a nice lad to take in, and I quote, 'a homeless homosexual.''

'She called you a homeless homosexual?'

'It's better than fag or pillow-biter or–'

'I get it,' John cut him off as the kettle boiled. He poured the water and joined the DI at the table. 'No milk, sorry.'

'S'alright, I actually prefer it black now. There's no milk at the Yard and I don't trust any milk you might have here.'

John smiled and sipped his tea, looking through the kitchen and into the living room. Sherlock and Mycroft were both sitting on the couch recounting their recent adventures to their mother. She scowled every so often and poked both their stomachs, demanding they eat more.

'So she doesn't know you and Mycroft are together?' John asked.

'I don't think so,' Greg shrugged. 'She asked if Mycroft was seeing that assistant of his. Apparently she's a lovely woman despite her age and would do good things for Mycroft. I was a little jealous to be honest.'

'I can imagine,' John said.

'What are you going to tell her?'

'I'll go along with whatever Sherlock says,' John said, tapping at his mug. He didn't want to lie to anyone about his relationship with Sherlock; they'd been together over a year. But he had no right to out Sherlock to his mother. 'I'm not going to lie about my sexuality though.'

'No?'

'No,' John said. 'I consider myself gay now, despite having exclusively dated women before Sherlock. I don't want anyone else. I haven't even looked at a woman since we got together.'

'Seriously?' Greg asked.

John nodded. 'I've checked out a few people,' he admitted, 'all men.'

A sly grin crept up Greg's face and John sighed. 'John Watson, have you been checking me out?'

'No!' John denied immediately. 'Why would you even ask that?'

'John, the only men you spend any time with are me, Mycroft and Anderson. I know you're not checking Anderson out and you would never have admitted to looking at other men if you were only checking out Mycroft. So, have you been looking at me?'

John burned red and looked down quickly. 'Maybe,' he mumbled.

Greg giggled.

'Shut up.'

'It's alright,' Greg said, 'I check out other men.'

'Really?'

'Mm.'

'Who?' John asked.

'Anderson.' The doctor snorted into his tea and Greg had to pat his back. 'I'm kidding. Actors mostly, maybe a guy or two on the street. It doesn't mean I would cheat on Mycroft. A guy's allowed to look.'

'I know,' John said. 'It's just... well, you're dating my boyfriend's brother. It's a little weird.'

'S'not, I'm extremely sexy.'

John chuckled but cut himself off when he looked up. Mrs Holmes was standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised. God, she definitely gave Mycroft that look; the one that clearly said, 'Stop laughing and do as I ask.'

'Erm, hello, I'm John Watson,' John smiled and stood to shake her hand. Mrs Holmes' eyes raked up and down before she smiled.

'Hello, John, Mellibelle Holmes.'

Because of _course _she had a weird name. 'It's lovely to meet you.'

'You two aren't hiding from us are you?' Belle asked, eyes flicking to Greg. Greg sunk down in his seat as Mrs Holmes continued, 'Come join us. We're going to go out for lunch.'

'We are?' John asked.

'Yes,' Mycroft said, stepping into the kitchen behind his mother. 'It seems you and Gregory have been asked along.' His eyes clearly said, 'Sorry.'

'Sounds lovely,' John said and drained his tea. 'Where are we going?'

{oOo}

Mycroft clearly got his love of all things posh from his mother. It was a five star restaurant with expensive tables, drapes, and waiters and waitresses dressed in suits. John was a little annoyed to see that Greg was completely at ease ordering water and appetisers. Clearly Mycroft took him to classy restaurants regularly. Not that John wanted to be dragged to a place like this by his own boyfriend every week. But still, a nice date every now and then wouldn't kill Sherlock.

'For you, sir?' the waiter asked Mycroft.

Mycroft swallowed before saying, 'Just water, please.'

Belle looked at her son as the waiter asked Sherlock. John realised this would be a good time for Sherlock to tease his brother about the whole alcohol thing but thankfully he ordered water. He looked at John as if to say, 'Honestly, I know when to tease and when to back off,' as the waiter turned to John.

'Water please,' he said.

'Why is everybody ordering water?' Belle asked. 'Is it really that good?'

All eyes turned to Mycroft and he sighed. Fidgeting with his napkin, Mycroft said, 'I don't drink anymore, Mummy.'

Belle raised an eyebrow as the waiter stood calmly, pointedly ignoring what Mycroft was saying. He was paid to serve not eavesdrop.

'You quit drinking?' Belle asked. Mycroft nodded. 'Why?'

'I was...' Mycroft sighed and looked away. John could see that Greg badly wanted to reach out and hold Mycroft's hand but the DI was holding himself back. 'Mother, I'm an alcoholic. I had to stop; it was interfering with my life and my health. I was arrested–' Belle gasped, '– and Gregory showed me that I needed help.'

'Gregory?' Belle asked, turning to her son's boyfriend.

Greg squirmed in his seat. 'I'm a police officer and I was called when Mycroft was arrested. I made him admit he had a problem.'

Belle's eyes narrowed on the officer before they were back on her eldest. 'I see. And you're currently sober?'

'Almost three months.'

Belle nodded. 'Good, My, I'm glad. You were drinking far too much.'

'We're all proud of him,' Greg said and turned red when all eyes flicked to him. He stared at his menu.

'John, I see you've been taking good care of my youngest son,' Belle said after ordering a glass of lemon water. 'He's put on a little bit of weight.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John said, 'You know how he is, Mrs Holmes.'

'I do,' Belle nodded. 'He doesn't take good enough care of himself. I do hope he doesn't keep you too busy.'

John smiled. 'Not at all, I don't mind. Sherlock's my best friend.'

It wasn't a complete lie. Sherlock _was _John's best friend. So was Greg, and maybe Mycroft to a lesser extent but there wasn't anyone John would rather spend time with than Sherlock Holmes.

'I'm glad,' Belle smiled as their appetisers were brought out. 'Sherly was always so different, I worried he'd never find a friend.'

'I have friends,' Sherlock pouted.

'Like who?' his brother asked.

John and Greg shared a look; the Holmes brothers even bickered in front of Mummy.

Sherlock paused, trying to think of someone. 'Lestrade!' he said a little too loudly. 'Lestrade's my friend.'

Greg snorted and had to swallow a mouthful of calamari before he said, ''Course I'm your mate.'

'He's more my mate than yours,' John pointed out. 'You never come to the pub with us.'

'I wouldn't want to upset your little gossiping sessions,' Sherlock scowled.

John grinned and nibbled on a prawn.

'What is it you do, John?' Belle asked.

'I'm a doctor,' John said, 'I was in the army for a bit but now I work at a little surgery. That and I follow Sherlock around London.'

'Shooting people,' Greg muttered. He yelped when Sherlock kicked him under the table. 'Erm, s'cuse me,' Greg mumbled into his water.

'Do you keep my son safe?'

'Of course,' John nodded.

'We'd all be lost without Doctor Watson,' Mycroft said and Greg nodded.

'Do you have a girlfriend, John?' Belle asked.

All eyes turned to the doctor as John sipped his water. 'No, no I don't.'

'Oh, I hope Sherlock isn't keeping you too busy,' Belle tutted. 'You should find someone to spend time with, John. You must work too much like My.'

Mycroft frowned at his mother but didn't say anything. His hand slipped off the table and Greg's followed, no doubt to twine their fingers together.

'You should make time to meet a nice girl,' Belle continued. 'I love that you take care of Sherly but he's a grown man, I'm sure he could do without you a few nights a week.'

John took another gulp of water and said, 'Actually, Mrs Holmes, I'm gay.'

Sherlock's eyes snapped to lock onto John and the doctor gave a little shrug. While John was more than fine with pretending to just be Sherlock's friend, he wasn't going to completely lie to Mrs Holmes.

Belle stiffened in her chair and swallowed slowly, eyes resting on John. She had the same piercing stare as both her boys and John wanted to get up and run.

'I... see...' she said slowly. 'You are homosexual?'

'Yes,' John nodded.

'Like Gregory.'

John looked at the DI who seemed completely enthralled with his menu. Both Mycroft's hands were back on the table and they were curled into fists.

'Yeah, like Greg,' John said.

'I suppose you helped him through his... breakup.'

John remembered Greg's lie and nodded again. 'Yeah, we had a few chats.'

'I see. Perhaps you two should date.'

Greg's head snapped up and his eyes went wide as John stuttered, 'I'm sorry?'

'You are both gay men,' Belle said and stirred her salad. 'Perhaps you two should date.'

'Mummy, just because they are both gay doesn't mean they should date,' Mycroft said. A nerve was jumping in his jaw and John realised he must hate the thought of him and Greg being together. John didn't particularly like it either; he was more than happy with Sherlock.

'Of course, of course,' Belle nodded. 'But they seem to get along well.'

'Erm, Greg's really not my type,' John tried and looked at his friend again. 'I mean, he's great but... er...' He really didn't know how to make the situation any less awkward and settled for shovelling food into his mouth.

'Lestrade and John would not do well together,' Sherlock said, eyes narrowing on Greg.

Greg held up his hands. 'I didn't say I wanted to date him.'

'No, of course not,' Sherlock growled.

'Calm down,' John muttered to him.

Sherlock scowled and folded his arms, sitting back in his seat to pout. Belle didn't seem to notice anything as she turned on her other son.

'Mycroft, tell me more about your assistant.'

Mycroft sighed as Greg and John exchanged smirks.

{oOo}

They all went back to 221B for coffee and Greg and John had to put up with Belle's remarks about homosexuality. It wasn't that she was overly homophobic but she clearly didn't like the idea. Greg and John hid in the kitchen which did little to help her remarks that they should date.

Mycroft and Sherlock were getting more and more irritated as the day wore on until Greg suggested the three Holmeses go out to dinner without them tagging along. Belle jumped on the idea and the brothers scowled as Sherlock led her outside.

Mycroft pounced on Greg, pulling him in for a searing hot kiss. John busied himself on his laptop until low moans filled his ears.

'Please,' he finally said and looked up. Mycroft had backed Greg into the wall and turned to give John a soft smile.

'My apologies.'

John shrugged. 'Doesn't matter, I just don't need to see it.'

Mycroft gave Greg another long kiss before whispering, 'I'll see you tonight.'

'Mm, I'm sneaking in as soon as your mum goes to sleep.'

'Gregory,' he sighed.

Greg grinned and kissed him quickly. 'Go on.'

Mycroft grabbed his coat and disappeared, leaving Greg leaning against the wall. He touched his lips and blushed when John grinned at him.

'Shut up.'

John chuckled. 'I wish I could get a kiss before my boyfriend was whisked away for another fancy meal.'

The words had barely left John's mouth before Sherlock was bounding into the flat. He pushed John's laptop aside and grabbed the doctor by his jumper. He hauled him half up and pressed their lips together, tongue slipping into John's mouth and making him moan.

'Oi!' Greg shouted and laughed when John managed to throw a pillow at him without disconnecting from Sherlock.

They broke apart and Sherlock stroked John's cheek, pale blue eyes wide. 'I miss you.'

'I miss you too,' John smiled. He kissed Sherlock again before pushing him back. 'Go have dinner with your mum.'

'You'll be okay?' he asked.

John chuckled and said, 'Greg and me will order in.'

Sherlock nodded and kissed him softly. 'I'll see you tonight.'

'Go,' John said and sighed when Sherlock disappeared, closing the door behind him. John leaned back on the couch and touched his lips. Greg's giggling had him shouting, 'Shut up!'

Greg smiled and sat beside John, handing him a beer. 'When did we become so needy?' the DI asked, flicking on the TV.

'Speak for yourself.'

Greg chuckled. 'Hey, I've had three more hours with her _and _she's staying at our place tonight. At least you and Sherlock can sleep in the same bed _and _kiss _and _have sex _and_–'

John pushed the pillow into the DI's face and asked, 'Pizza?'

Greg smiled.

{oOo}

Sherlock seemed completely miserable when he got back. The group exchanged a few words before Mycroft and Greg left, taking Belle with them. Sherlock threw himself into John's arms and kissed him softly.

'You okay?' John asked, stroking his fingers through Sherlock's curls.

'Mmf,' Sherlock mumbled into his chest. 'Miffed oo.'

'What?'

Sherlock pulled back to kiss John again. 'Missed you.'

John smiled and said, 'I missed you too.'

They hugged each other again as they fell back onto the couch, Sherlock curling his longer frame around John's.

'She's impossible,' he complained. 'She kept asking why I don't have a girlfriend and went so far as to ask Mycroft and me if we were safe around you and Gregory.'

'Safe?' John asked.

'She seems to think you're going to jump me while I'm asleep,' Sherlock grumbled, trailing his fingers along John's jumper. 'I told her we've been living together over a year but she was adamant I keep my door locked. Then she started on Mycroft; asked him why he'd even consider letting Gregory stay. According to her Lestrade is emotional and in need of some sex.'

'I'm sure Mycroft will give it to him,' John smiled.

'That's what she's afraid of.'

'She seriously thinks Greg's going to rape Mycroft?'

'Mm,' Sherlock nodded. 'She doesn't seem to hate it as much as we thought but she still doesn't accept it.' He sighed. 'I want to tell her the truth.'

'I'll support you no matter what, Sherlock, believe that.'

'She's staying for Christmas.'

'Oh.' Sherlock pulled back to look up at his boyfriend. John cleared his throat and said, 'Er, wonderful.'

'No it isn't,' Sherlock said. 'I want to kiss you on Christmas Day and hold your hand and see you in that stripy jumper I love so much.'

'Which one?'

'The red and black one.'

John smiled. 'I could wear it now.'

'I want you to wear it on Christmas.'

John sighed and scratched his fingers through Sherlock's hair. The consulting detective immediately melted into him, falling to rest his head against John's stomach. He nuzzled into the thick fabric of John's jumper and closed his eyes.

'Sherlock, it'll be fine,' John reassured him. 'If you want to tell your mother you can, if you want to keep it a secret I'll support you. I've decided I'm going to tell my family when I see them.'

'Really?' Sherlock asked, arms circling John's waist.

'Yes,' John said. 'It was so hard keeping it from your mum and that was just a few hours. My dad invited us to spend the entire day. I can't pretend you're just my friend.'

'It _is _hard,' Sherlock mumbled into him. 'I love you too much to pretend.'

'I love you too,' John whispered and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's forehead. He could tell his boyfriend was exhausted from lunch and dinner and a few minutes later he'd drifted to sleep. John continued to run one hand through Sherlock's hair while flipping through the TV channels.

{oOo}

Sherlock was roped into lunch and dinner with his mother every day. John managed to avoid the second lunch and third dinner, claiming he was busy with work. He and Greg spent an entire four hours hiding out in the DI's office to avoid the woman.

It wasn't that Belle Holmes was particularly horrible; in fact she could hold her own in almost any conversation (except music where she claimed opera was the only real music to listen to/watch and berated Greg for twenty minutes for listening to _emo _music. Her saying emo had Greg giggling into his water). The only problems were her remarks about John and Greg and her attitude about homosexuality.

She continuously tried to set them up, claiming they'd be happy with each other. John and Greg both agreed she was just trying to keep them away from her sons.

_If only she knew_, John thought one evening when they all sat in an expensive restaurant for dinner. He was seated beside the DI, Mycroft on the other side and Sherlock across the table. The consulting detective stared at John all through dinner and it was all John could do not to jump up and proclaim how in love with Sherlock Holmes he was.

John wished he'd made it to the third dinner when he heard Belle say she wanted to stay at 221B; maybe that way he could have talked Belle out of it. His head snapped up and he eyed the three Holmeses from the kitchen, Greg also turning to listen in.

'I'm too tired to go all the way back to your flat, My,' Belle said and yawned. 'I'll be quite comfortable here.'

'Of course you will be,' Mycroft said quickly, glancing at Greg. Greg grinned and stood to join them.

'But Mummy, you don't have any clothes,' Sherlock said, scowling at his brother. He and John hadn't had sex since Belle had made an appearance; Sherlock was always too tired from trying to keep his mother happy. Having her in their home would be even more taxing.

'I have a spare bag in My's car,' Belle said, 'he can go and get it.'

'Allow me,' Greg said quickly and exited the flat.

'When do you suppose Gregory will find his own place?' Belle asked as soon as the DI was gone.

Mycroft gritted his teeth and said, 'He will when he finds the time, Mummy.'

Belle just hummed and sipped her tea. Greg was back in record time and practically bouncing.

'Well, I'm sure Mrs Holmes wants to get some sleep so we'll just go,' Greg said and looked at Mycroft.

'Yes, of course,' the elder Holmes nodded. He smiled at all of them. 'Have a pleasant evening.'

Sherlock's scowl was murderous as his brother and friend left quickly, slamming the door behind them. They heard a thud and soft noises. Sherlock grimaced and John giggled from his laptop.

'What's so funny?' Belle asked him.

'Nothing,' John tried to say with a clear face. 'Nothing at all.'

{oOo}

They got their sleeping arrangements sorted fairly quickly. Belle and John were too tired to argue when Sherlock proclaimed Mummy would be sleeping in John's room, John in Sherlock's, (i.e. the spare room) and Sherlock on the couch.

John disappeared to grab some pyjamas and Belle turned to her son.

'Are you sure I'll be okay in John's room?'

Sherlock sighed. 'Mummy, John is gay, he doesn't have leprosy. You'll be fine.'

Belle bit her lip but nodded. Sherlock badly wanted to grab his mother and shout that he was gay and very much in love with John Watson. But he didn't want to start anything, not then. He promised himself he'd tell his mother soon; he didn't want to continue lying.

They all parted ways for bed, John trying very hard not to leap onto his boyfriend and snog him stupid. There'd been plenty of days when he hadn't got a touch from Sherlock, mostly when the genius had cases. But Sherlock had still said he loved him, had still smiled at him with those bright blue eyes and full lips. There was none of that tonight.

John sighed as he fell onto Sherlock's bed, dust rising about him. He really should have changed the sheets but couldn't be bothered. Instead he rolled over and tried to ignore the cold bed and how empty it felt without Sherlock.

{oOo}

The door opened a few hours later, stirring John into consciousness.

'Wah?' he murmured, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The door shut quickly, blocking out all light. 'Who's there?'

'It's me.' Sherlock, of course. Who else annoyed John in the middle of the night?

'Sherlock, what is it?'

Suddenly Sherlock had jumped on the bed and spread his long, thin body across his boyfriend's. His lips found John's in the dark and sucked enthusiastically with a passion John hadn't felt in ages.

'S-Sher-lock,' John mumbled, threading his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls. God, he could get lost in those curls. They were so dark and smooth and perfect. John especially loved them rubbing against his– 'Sherlock!'

As if the genius could read John's mind and body (which he probably could), Sherlock ripped down John's pyjama pants and pulled his cock into his mouth.

John groaned a little too loudly as Sherlock's hot mouth sucked on his shaft.

'... Jesus...'

Sherlock smiled, always glad to hear that he could undo John quite so thoroughly.

'What are you doing?' John demanded when his boyfriend's mouth had pulled away.

'I don't want you coming too soon, John.'

'No, I mean... what are you thinking? We can't have sex.'

'Why not? We do it all the time.'

'Yeah, but not when we have people in the flat.'

'What do you mean?' Sherlock asked. 'John, we had sex in Lestrade's bathroom while my brother and Lestrade did the same thing in the living room.'

John closed his eyes, trying very hard not to picture Mycroft and Greg having sex.

'Sherlock,' he said slowly, trying to keep the arousal from his voice. He failed. 'We can't, not now. Your mother's out there.'

'And?'

'She could come in any minute.'

'Why would she come into your room?'

'What if she can't find you?' John demanded and tried not to shiver as Sherlock's nimble fingers trailed up his thigh.

'I'll have to make this quick then,' Sherlock whispered.

John hadn't even realised Sherlock wasn't wearing pants until he was slipping into his boyfriend. 'Oh _fuck_.'

Sherlock was seated completely on his lap and began rocking back and forth , clenching his muscles around John and reducing the doctor to a whimpering mess.

''Lock...' he managed, '... can't...'

And then Sherlock pulled himself up and slid his cock against John's stomach. It was all downhill from there. John's hands grabbed Sherlock's arse tightly and the consulting detective moaned as he was forced up and down, his lips finding John's in the dark.

They grunted into each other as John started snapping his hips, burying himself deeper and deeper into Sherlock with each thrust. John freed a hand from Sherlock's pale flesh to grip his cock and stroke in jerky movements, Sherlock hissing and nipping at John's lips.

'You have no idea how much I've missed this,' Sherlock moaned.

'We had sex three days ago.'

'Exactly.'

Sherlock began moving faster now, his arse clenching around John and his mouth hard and demanding. John wasn't going to last long and he squeezed Sherlock's cock tightly as he licked his way into his boyfriend's mouth.

Sherlock came with a shudder and curse, completely losing control of himself and tipping his head back. If John could see in the dark he would have seen a look of absolute bliss and loss of control spread across Sherlock's face. Sherlock never felt as good as he did in those moments, hugging John Watson, _his _John.

John moaned and, with a few short thrusts, was coming loudly. Sherlock clamped a hand over his boyfriend's mouth which only heightened John's arousal. He licked at Sherlock's fingers as he emptied himself into the consulting detective, Sherlock continuing to gyrate on his lap.

Sherlock finally removed his hand and murmured, 'I didn't realise you were into that, John.'

'You're the one who did it,' John breathed, resting his forehead against Sherlock's sweaty chest.

Sherlock smiled and ran his fingers through his boyfriend's short hair. 'I love you so much, John. I should just tell my mother.'

John sighed. 'I've seen how she is. You don't have to if you don't want. But I have to tell my family.'

Sherlock smiled and kissed him softly. 'Only if you want to, John. We can pretend to be flatmates.'

'What if we get married one day?'

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he swallowed back the excitement clawing through his exhausted body. He never thought he'd be the type of man to want marriage or kids or anything like what he had with John. But with the doctor everything was different. Sherlock saw and experienced the world differently. He _wanted _to marry John, to wear a ring that officially claimed that he was John Watson's husband. Sherlock made a note to talk about proposing with his brother. Because while Sherlock hated asking his brother for any type of advice, Mycroft had proven to be a good source of information on relationships despite his lack of experience.

'I mean, I don't want to continue lying to my parents or to Harry,' John continued, running his fingers along Sherlock's shirt. 'I can't do that.'

'I understand,' Sherlock said softly and kissed his boyfriend. 'But take all the time you need.'

There was a knock on the door and both men flung themselves apart. John slipped from Sherlock, who winced as he stumbled to his feet, hunting for his pants.

'John?'

'Mrs Holmes?' John frowned, pulling his pants back up over his wet front. 'What is it?'

'Sherlock's gone.'

John peered through the dark room and vaguely saw Sherlock push himself against the wall just behind the door. He got out of bed and tried to stop his knees shaking as he pulled the door open.

'What do you mean?' John asked, blinking against the harsh light of the kitchen.

'He's not on the couch,' Belle said, twisting her night shirt in long fingers.

'Er, I'm sure he's just popped out,' John tried, aware that Sherlock was standing only a few inches to his left. 'He does that a lot.'

'Are you sure he'll be okay?' Belle asked. 'It's awfully late. Should I call Mycroft?'

John knew for a fact that Mycroft and Greg would be extremely busy doing what he and Sherlock had just done. They'd had Belle over three nights in a row.

'No, it's fine. He'll be back. If he isn't in by breakfast I'll call him.'

Belle nodded and said, 'Do you think you could show me where you keep the tea?'

Belle seemed like a completely different person when worried about her son. Not that she was horrible, she was just a bit strict in her thoughts on relationships. John slipped from Sherlock's bedroom and headed into the kitchen.

'Have you checked the bathroom?' he asked when he noticed Sherlock sneak from the room.

'Oh, I probably should have done that,' Belle said and stood.

'Let me,' John said quickly as the kettle boiled. He made sure to walk slowly as he headed for the bathroom. Just as he got there Sherlock slipped out looking composed and not like a man who'd just been fucked stupid. They shared a smile as Sherlock followed his boyfriend back into the kitchen.

{oOo}

Sherlock didn't venture back into the room that night and John actually got some sleep. The three spent the day walking around London, not looking at anything in particular. Every time Belle was out of sight Sherlock would pull John in for a hot kiss. It wasn't as though John was against public displays of affection, he often dragged Sherlock into narrow side streets to snog him stupid. But Belle was _right _there.

'Sherlock, stop it,' John groaned while pulling his boyfriend closer.

Sherlock smirked and broke the kiss quickly, bounding off after his mother. John sighed; he was beginning to hate Christmas.

Finally Mycroft picked Belle up. Greg was working and wouldn't be joining them for dinner. Belle didn't seem to mind. She didn't hate Greg but he _was _gay. That earned him a slight sniff every time the DI talked about anything even remotely sexual.

As soon as the door shut Sherlock was on John, ripping at his trousers to pull down his underwear.

'Sherlock, what if she forgot something?'

'Tough, I need you,' Sherlock mumbled before pulling out John's cock.

There was little to be done but let Sherlock suck him into oblivion.

{oOo}

Both Mycroft and Greg seemed overly cheery when they all had breakfast the next day. Sherlock and John immediately slouched back in their seats, watching as Greg pulled out Belle's chair for her.

'Thank you, Gregory,' Belle smiled.

Greg grinned back. 'Not a problem, Belle.'

John and Sherlock both raised their eyebrows when Belle didn't correct him. Greg shrugged when John shot him a look and fell into his seat.

'What are we all having?' Belle asked, scanning the menu.

'The chocolate chip pancakes are good,' Mycroft commented as he sipped the water John had ordered him.

'What do you think?' Belle asked Greg.

Sherlock's mouth fell open as his mother and Greg proceeded to discuss the merits of everything on the menu. Mycroft smirked from his seat and just shrugged when Sherlock looked his way.

Finally Sherlock dragged John from his seat under the pretence of needing a cigarette. Belle tutted as they disappeared outside but continued her discussion with Greg.

'Okay, something's definitely wrong,' Sherlock said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 'Is it just me or are they acting weird?'

John was glad to know it wasn't all in his head. 'No, something's definitely up. They're all... cheery.'

'I knew Mycroft and Gregory would be happy; they obviously engaged in sexual intercourse at least four times the night before last.'

John winced. 'Sherlock, seriously, don't say intercourse.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'I don't understand,' he said.

'Must be a first.'

Sherlock scowled at him and continued. 'Something's happened; I'm just not sure what.'

'Maybe Mycroft told her about him and Greg?'

'John, please. My mother would not be sitting there discussing waffles with Greg if she knew he was sleeping with her son.'

'Maybe she's got a more open mind then you and Mycroft give her credit for.'

Sherlock snorted. 'John, please.'

'Maybe she sees how much Mycroft and Greg love each other. Did you ever think of that? Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be completely against her sons being in homosexual relationships.'

Sherlock stared at him. 'John, please.'

'You really have to stop saying that.'

'Are you two quite done here?' Mycroft asked. He'd sneaked up behind them and John was glad to see that Sherlock jumped too.

'What is going on?' Sherlock demanded.

Mycroft smiled pleasantly. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Mummy is smiling and you and Lestrade are practically jumping in joy. She's discussing _waffles _with him, Mycroft. I demand to know what is happening!'

'Sherlock, you're being ridiculous.'

'_I'm _ridiculous?' Sherlock said. 'You're keeping something from me!'

'I always keep things from you.'

'Ha! So you admit it!'

Mycroft rolled his eyes and went back into the cafe. Sherlock scowled and John chuckled. After a quick glance to make sure Belle wasn't looking their way, John kissed Sherlock on the cheek.

'Come on, let's get this over with.'

Sherlock's scowl deepened as they retook their seats.

As breakfast wore on it became increasingly obvious that Mycroft, Greg and Belle knew something that Sherlock and John didn't. Sherlock hadn't bothered ordering food and spent the two hours they were together staring from his brother to his mother to Greg. The three just ignored him, chatting happily about Christmas.

John tried his best not to laugh at Sherlock's facial expressions. The man had thirty different ways to express annoyance and used each and every one every time Belle laughed with Greg.

'So, John, how are you?' Belle asked suddenly, jolting the doctor from his thoughts.

'Oh, I'm fine,' he said and smiled.

'You should really find a nice man, John,' Belle said and smiled at her son. 'Stop letting Sherlock control all your time.'

John managed to keep a straight face. 'I assure you it's no trouble; I like working with Sherlock.'

Belle nodded. 'Of course, dear. Tell me, what kind of man do you prefer?'

John's mouth fell open and Greg sniggered into his glass.

'Mummy, are you really asking what John's type is?' Sherlock asked.

'I believe that is what I said,' Belle told her son before looking at John again.

'Erm, I dunno.'

'Really? You don't know?' Belle asked. 'Surely you must.'

Greg was about to burst out laughing and John scowled. He wished Belle would turn on him.

'Um... I guess I like tall men.' Sherlock was tall... so were Greg and Mycroft who were, really, the only other two men John had ever been attracted to. Oh, and David Tennant... John Barrowman... the lead singer of Muse. Though _he _was rather short.

'Sherlock is tall,' Belle butted in. This time Mycroft chuckled and Sherlock shot him a glare.

'Y-yeah, he is,' John swallowed.

'I've always been a fan of blue eyes,' Belle mused. 'Their father had blue eyes. Fortunately both my boys got that from him rather than my strange shade of purple.'

'Erm... yeah,' John said.

'You have blue eyes too, John,' Belle noted.

'They're more hazel than blue,' John said, 'kind of a blue-brown-green mix.'

'Lovely,' Belle smiled. 'I'm sure many men find you attractive.'

Greg snorted into his drink and Belle looked at him. 'Oh, erm, yeah; John's pretty good-looking.'

Belle tutted. 'He is not your type, Gregory.'

John and Sherlock both stared as Greg grinned. 'No, definitely not. I like tall man too.' He pointedly looked at Mycroft, who smiled.

Sherlock stood suddenly. 'Okay, what the hell is going on here?'

'Sherlock,' Mycroft sighed.

'Language,' his mother scolded.

'No, something is going on here and I demand to know what it is.'

'Sit down!' Mycroft hissed and dragged Sherlock back into his seat.

Sherlock scowled. 'Mummy, why on earth are you suddenly interested in what John's type is? And why do you like Gregory so much? And what, may I ask, is so funny?'

Belle sighed and sipped her drink. 'I'm sorry, Gregory, but I cannot continue this. I was rather hoping Sherlock would tell me himself but your behaviour has made that invalid.'

'Me? I'm not the one asking John's type,' Greg said.

'Yes, Mummy, really,' Mycroft tutted. 'Why not just describe the good doctor's type as a six-foot tall, skinny, pale and rather pompous consulting detective?'

'What?' Sherlock gaped.

Greg sighed and said, 'Alright, fine. Belle knows about me and Mycroft.'

'She does?' John asked and the DI nodded.

'Yeah, Mycroft snapped last night and told her. We spoke this morning and she's okay with it.'

'You are?' Sherlock asked his mother.

Belle nodded. 'I wasn't at first but Gregory makes My happy so I blessed the relationship. Besides, I didn't want my son thinking I hated him for being gay. I don't hate you either, Sherly.'

Sherlock swallowed and leaned back. 'M-Me?'

'Yes, dear,' Belle said. 'Just when are you planning on telling me you and John are dating?'

John nearly dropped his glass but managed to save it. He looked up at Belle and said, 'Me and Sherlock?'

'I know what to look for now, dear,' Belle smiled. 'You seem to be good for Sherly so I don't mind that you two are dating.'

'You don't?' Sherlock asked.

'Of course not,' Belle said. 'It will take some time for me to adjust to both my sons being gay but if John makes you happy than I'm happy too. Now, what is everyone doing for lunch?'

And that, it seemed, was that.

{oOo}

Everything went smoothly afterwards. In the days leading up to Christmas Belle spent her time between 221B and Mycroft and Greg's flat. She was an amazingly funny woman once you got to know her. She often had John and Greg in hysterics over tales about the Holmes brothers when they were little. Suffice to say, Mycroft and Sherlock didn't enjoy the stories nearly as much.

The two couples made sure to keep their kissing to a minimum but Belle didn't seem to mind them holding hands or snuggling into each other. She even smiled when Sherlock took John's hand and planted a kiss against his knuckles after dinner one night.

A week after Belle found out about her sons, John borrowed a car from Mycroft for the trip to his sister's house. Christmas was being thrown at her place since she was currently sober and John just hoped they made it to the end of the night without her relapsing.

Sherlock was obviously nervous as John parked behind his dad's BMW.

'You'll be fine,' John assured.

'I've never met a partner's parents, John,' Sherlock said, fidgeting in his seat. 'I've never had a proper relationship, I don't... what do I do, what do I say?'

John smiled and planted a soft kiss against his boyfriend's lips. 'Sherlock, just be yourself.' He raised an eyebrow and John said, 'Okay, maybe be a bit nicer than yourself. Try not to annoy anyone too much. Other than that just be... yourself. Honestly, Sherlock, I love you; for all your annoying habits and your complete lack of a filter between your brain and mouth. Just don't say you're my boyfriend until I work up the courage to tell my family myself.'

'You don't have to, John.'

'I want to. Your mother knows and it's so much better that she does. So I'm telling my family, okay?'

Sherlock nodded and they shared another kiss before climbing from the car.

{oOo}

John's family were all pretty much like John; sweet, cuddly, and so nice it border-lined on personality disorder. They greeted Sherlock like a long-lost son, John's mother shoving food down his throat as soon as he walked in.

'Sherlock doesn't eat much,' John said as they sat down to dinner, John finally having caught them up on his hectic life.

'Nonsense, he'll eat plenty while he's here,' Mrs Watson– Lauren as she kept asking Sherlock to call her– said. She smiled at Sherlock and heaped a pile of roast chicken onto his plate. Lauren looked a lot like her daughter; tall, thin, with olive-green eyes and short brown hair. Hamish had his son's shorter, sturdier frame and hazel eyes. His hair was already gray and cut short like John's.

'Tell us about yourself, Sherlock,' Mr– no, Hamish– said as he carved up the turkey. 'Starting with your name.'

John sighed and Sherlock said, 'My mother is a little... strange. She enjoys all things different.'

'His brother's name is Mycroft,' John told them.

'Mycroft? Another strange name. John was supposed to be a girl,' Lauren explained.

John groaned loudly and Sherlock smiled. 'Really?'

'The doctor said he was going to be a girl. We liked the name Joan. John seemed fitting.'

'Mum, please,' John begged.

'I'm sure John would have made a lovely girl,' Sherlock said and earned giggles from Harriet.

'What is it you do, Sherlock?' Hamish asked.

'I'm a consulting detective.'

'He made up the job,' Harry butted in, 'John said on his blog. Sherlock, do you really drag him all over London?'

'John follows me voluntarily.'

'Come on, you drag me around heaps,' John said, sipping his water.

'I have never heard you complain,' Sherlock said.

John raised his eyebrows. 'Really? So me shouting, 'Sherlock, for the love of God I haven't slept in two days, can you please leave me at home?' isn't complaining?'

'It isn't when you follow me willingly out the door,' Sherlock said.

Harry giggled and Hamish and Lauren smiled at each other. 'As long as my son doesn't get hurt I don't mind,' Lauren said. 'Take care of him, Sherlock.'

'I will,' Sherlock nodded. He badly wanted to reach across and grab John's hand but remembered his boyfriend had asked him to not do anything until John told his family. He grabbed his knife for something to do.

'Tell us, Sherlock, do you have a girlfriend?'

'Mum, please,' John said. 'Let the man eat.'

Sherlock cleared his throat and said, 'It's okay, John. No, Mrs Watson, I don't. Actually, I'm gay.'

'Oh, so boyfriend then?' Lauren asked.

Sherlock was amazed at the woman's understanding. Lauren Watson appeared to be about his mother's age, maybe a little older, but she didn't think anything of Sherlock being gay. It was rather refreshing.

'Yes, I have a boyfriend,' Sherlock nodded.

'That's nice,' Hamish said. 'We were a little surprised when Harriet came out but I was glad she didn't have to hide anymore.'

'Yeah, me too,' John grunted. 'I was sick of her girlfriends sneaking in through my bedroom.'

Harry threw a roll at her brother, who squawked and retaliated with a carrot.

'Kids,' Hamish chastised but was smiling. 'I'm sure you and your brother did this when you were younger, Sherlock. I wish they'd grow up sometimes.'

'No, actually, my brother and I never really fought with food,' Sherlock said. 'We used to tease each other in French.'

'French?' Hamish asked.

'Mycroft speaks a number of languages,' Sherlock said, 'I speak French, German and a little bit of Arabic. I could never master languages like he could but in my defence I was only twelve.'

Hamish raised his eyebrows as Lauren asked, 'You could speak three languages by twelve?'

'Two, I can barely speak Arabic.'

Hamish and Lauren looked at John for an explanation.

'Him and his brother are... geniuses,' John said.

'Genii,' Sherlock corrected.

'Whatever,' John rolled his eyes. 'They're really, _really _smart; weirdly so. They can both tell you your whole life story from a glance.'

'I've read that on your blog,' Harry said. 'Remember I told you, Mum?'

Lauren nodded. 'Can you do it now?'

'He's not a party trick,' John said.

'It's quite alright, John,' Sherlock said and put down his knife and fork. He glanced Lauren over before saying, 'You're a nurse, probably why John chose to be a doctor. You worked thirteen hours today and are very tired. You're left-handed, like John, and you enjoy drinking beer. You love Doctor Who, you smoke, and you love reading.'

He went back to his dinner, Harry grinning, the Watsons staring and John smirking.

'How'd you know?' Lauren asked.

Once again Sherlock put down his cutlery. 'I saw a picture of you in scrubs on the mantel in the living room. You are very tired and I'm very good at telling how many hours someone has worked. You're left index and middle finger are stained yellow from smoking, an indicator that you are left-handed. I can tell you enjoy reading from the mountains of books I saw on the left-side of the couch in the dining room. As Mr Watson is right-handed he wouldn't keep his books on the left side. I remember John telling me it was you who got him into Doctor Who by telling him stories when he was little. I guess that wasn't really a deduction on my part, more a memory.'

'That was... amazing,' Hamish said after a few seconds silence.

Sherlock blinked in surprise. 'Really?'

'Yes, quite... quite extraordinary,' Lauren agreed.

Sherlock had a flashback to John in the cab after he'd first told John how he'd worked everything out. 'Erm... okay.'

John chuckled and stuffed salad into his mouth to cover the noise.

{oOo}

John spent the remainder of the night listening to his family recount their lives while also giving snippets of his. He kept them entertained with the less dangerous cases he and Sherlock worked until Lauren started commenting on the pictures of him and Sherlock in the paper.

'Who was that grey-haired guy?' Harry asked, sipping from a bottle of coke (much to everyone's relief).

'Grey-haired guy?' John asked.

'He was in one of the photos; a bit taller than you, wore a dark coat, erm... handsome I guess if you like blokes.' She looked at Sherlock, who shifted in his seat. They were all in the living room now, John and Sherlock pressed against each other on the couch. It was all Sherlock could do not to wrap an arm around his boyfriend.

'Oh, you must mean Greg,' John said. 'Er, Detective Inspector Lestrade. He calls Sherlock in on cases; works for Scotland Yard.'

'You call him Greg?' Harry asked.

'He's practically my best mate, besides Sherlock,' John said. 'And he's dating Mycroft.'

'Your brother's gay too?' Harry asked and Sherlock nodded.

'What are the odds of that?' Lauren mused.

'Probably the same as male and female siblings being gay,' Harry said and looked at her brother.

Sherlock smiled as John fiddled with his glass. Harry Watson didn't miss much.

'I don't understand,' Lauren said.

John sighed. 'Mum, Dad, I guess I should have told you this at the beginning of the night...' he trailed off and drained his glass, placing it on the table. 'I'm... I'm kind of dating Sherlock.'

His dad gasped and his mum's eyes went wide.

'What do you mean, 'kind of dating'?' Lauren asked.

'Er, dating,' John said. 'Definitely dating.'

'How long?' Hamish asked.

'Just over a year,' John mumbled.

'A year? John, why wouldn't you tell us?' His mother sighed and shook her head. 'We were fine with Harry being gay, why wouldn't we be okay with you as well?'

'I know, I'm sorry,' John said, just glad his parents weren't shouting. 'But I went forty years being straight and then Sherlock enters my life and BAM, I like men.'

'Men? So there's more than one?'

John groaned and rubbed his face. 'No, I'm just dating Sherlock, Mum,' he said. 'But I'm... attracted to other men.'

'Who?' Sherlock asked.

'Er, nobody you know,' John said.

Sherlock smiled. 'Since when do I not know my brother?'

Lauren chuckled. 'You're attracted to his brother?'

'No!' John said but colour was creeping up his face.

'Tell me, little brother, is it just Holmes men you turn gay for?' Harry asked.

'Shut up,' John groaned.

'And of course there's Lestrade,' Sherlock said, 'though I'll keep that to myself; I don't think Mycroft would appreciate your checking out his boyfriend, John.'

John buried his face in his hands.

'And there's that man who plays the Doctor... David something,' Sherlock continued, 'and some of those other actors; the one in that show about that town where everyone is played by the same three actors... Mark something.'

'Why can you remember their first names but not their last?'

'It's only because you insist on muttering their first names in your sleep,' Sherlock said.

John really, really wanted the ground to swallow him up now. Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?

'Oh, John, it seems you've been gay a very long time,' Harry giggled.

'I'm not opposed to hitting you, Harriet,' John scowled.

'Bring it on,' his sister grinned.

'John, we honestly don't care,' Hamish butted in before his children could get physical. 'If Sherlock makes you happy, we're happy.'

'Really?' John asked.

'Of course,' Lauren said. 'And don't you dare leave us out of the wedding, John Watson. I want a front row seat.'

Sherlock grinned broadly and said, 'Excellent, now I get to do this.' He wrapped his thin fingers around John's chin and pulled him in for a kiss. Lauren grinned, Harry giggled and Hamish smiled.

'Er, right,' John said, clearing his throat after Sherlock had pulled back. 'Erm... r-right.'

'Ah, so cute,' Harry said.

John threw a pillow at her.

{oOo}

Sherlock kept his hand in John's for the remainder of the night, not even letting go when they were saying goodbye. John managed to give his family one-armed hugs and smiled as they walked to the car.

'Really?' he asked.

'I missed holding your hand,' Sherlock said.

John smiled and squeezed his fingers. 'I missed it too.'

'I'm glad your family is okay with this, John,' Sherlock said, 'I love you so very much and... and if we do get married I'd like them to be there.'

John halted by Mycroft's car, pulling Sherlock around so they were facing each other. 'Really?' he said. 'You want to marry me?'

'Not right now,' Sherlock said, 'but I definitely like the idea of you wearing a ring that tells the world you're mine.'

John grinned and pulled Sherlock in for a kiss. 'I'm definitely yours,' he whispered.

Sherlock smiled against his lips.

{oOo}

Christmas was held at Mycroft's and Greg's flat for two reasons. One: it was bigger, 221B was way too small for the five of them. Two: It was Mycroft's and Greg's first Christmas together. Sherlock fought over and over again with his brother on the days leading up to Christmas but he was outvoted by Mycroft, Greg _and _John. Finally he shouted, pouted, and scowled as he sat on the couch in the rather big flat.

Everybody ignored him as they passed around presents and chatted happily. Greg and Mycroft held hands most of the day and Greg blushed every time Mycroft looked his way.

John sat beside Sherlock and nudged him. 'Come on, it's Christmas.'

'Christmas is dull.'

'You're just saying that because Mycroft won the argument.'

'He didn't _win,_' Sherlock scowled, '_I _was outvoted.'

'That's the same as Mycroft winning.'

'Isn't.'

John chuckled and pulled a wrapped present from his back pocket. 'So you don't want this?'

Sherlock ripped the present from John's hands and tore the wrapping free, John giggling. Out fell... a roadmap.

'John?' Sherlock questioned.

'See here, where I've circled?' John asked pointing to a large red pen mark he'd made. Sherlock nodded. 'That's a bee farm.'

Sherlock looked at his boyfriend. 'What?'

It had taken John ages to think of the perfect gift. He hadn't wanted to get Sherlock anything that could possibly blow up 221B or get them arrested. He figured it would kind of ruin Christmas if Lestrade had to throw them in jail.

Finally he'd settled on something to do with bees. He couldn't let Sherlock keep them in the flat... well, maybe one... in a glass jar... He'd wondered if a book would be good or maybe a big file on bees. But he figured learning about them and keeping his own notes would be part of the experience for Sherlock. So he'd jumped on the net and searched for bee farms, hoping Sherlock would be allowed to run around on one studying the little insects in person.

'You're always going on about how great bees are,' John said, 'and I won't let you keep them in the flat. So I looked on the internet and made some calls. We can go down there a week after New Year; the guy's letting us have a look around. You can stay as long as you want and I was thinking we could have lunch before or after; make a day of it. I asked the guy if he could let you romp about and go on and on and–'

Sherlock shut him up with a long, soft kiss, John smiling and threading his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

'So you like it?' he asked as they broke apart.

'Of course, John,' Sherlock said and fingered the map. 'That you would go to all that trouble... thank you so much.'

John grinned and wrapped an arm around Sherlock. 'Good, I'm glad.'

Sherlock continued to stare at the map, no doubt wondering about what he'd do when he got to the bee farm. He blinked suddenly and said, 'Would you like your present?'

'Of course,' John smiled, remembering the plastic bag Sherlock had been carrying around that day they'd gone shopping.

Sherlock reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slim package wrapped in bright green paper. John raised an eyebrow. It felt like a book, or a box. If John were a girl he'd be thinking jewellery. He ripped the present open and pulled out a small book of...

'Coupons?' John asked, turning it in his hand. The cover was glossy and professional looking but had 'John Watson' written across both the back and front in bright yellow letters.

'Specially made coupons,' Sherlock said. 'I know that I'm not the easiest man to live with, John, and I'm by no means a perfect boyfriend. I can be loud, disruptive, sulky, angry, and I never clean up or cook or do any of the small things that you find yourself saddled with. So I thought I would get a book full of coupons.'

'If you look you can see that there is five of each type. Some of them are small like, 'Make Dinner'. If you present me with that coupon I have no choice but to make dinner for the both of us. I made one that says, 'Five hours of quiet.' That means I have to be silent for exactly five hours.''

John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes,' Sherlock nodded.

'But will you be ablestick by these coupons?' John asked.

'I promise you right now, John Hamish Watson, that I will abide by each and every one of these coupons. And I will not break such a promise, not to my John.'

John grinned and flicked through the coupons. 'Wow, Sherlock... this is great, thank you.'

'Really?' Sherlock asked and John could see he was worried. 'You don't hate it?' John pulled him in for a soft kiss, melting against Sherlock's lips. When they broke apart Sherlock mumbled, 'There are coupons for that.'

John chuckled. 'I love it, Sherlock, thank you.'

Sherlock grinned as John continued to flick through the book. He came to one and grinned.

'I think I'll use one now.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as John ripped a coupon free and pressed it into his hands:

_One free moment of 'together time', preferably in a public place._

Sherlock grinned and looked up at his boyfriend. 'Really?'

'Yes,' John said and dragged him up.

'Is my brother's bathroom a public place?' Sherlock asked.

'Most definitely,' John nodded and dragged him towards the bathroom.

'Sherlock, please!' Mycroft shouted.

Sherlock ignored his brother as he stepped into the main bathroom with John. 'You will note,' he said as he locked the door behind him, 'that there are twenty of these coupons.'

'Only twenty?' John asked, placing the book on the sink. 'I might just have to staple them back in there.'

Sherlock smirked and drew John close. 'I suppose,' he said slowly and pulled at John's jumper, 'that would be acceptable.'

John grinned and squeezed Sherlock tightly. Their lips pressed together and the couple exchanged soft, slow kisses, neither caring how long they were there. All that mattered was each other; their lips and tongues and bodies and just _them_.

Sherlock's tongue swept across John's and the doctor shivered, moaning and pressing himself against Sherlock even more, trying to meld their bodies together.

When they finally broke apart for air, Sherlock rested his cheek against John's head, stroking his nimble fingers up and down John's chest.

'Merry Christmas, John.'

'Merry Christmas, Sherlock.'

* * *

><p>{To Be Continued...}<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I want to apologise for the long delay; I kind of got sidetracked with other stories and I wanted to catch up on the partner series, "Impact". If you want to see Belle's reaction to Mycroft's and Greg's relationship read, "Sherlock: Wrapping On Presents".

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}


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